


untitled

by carolinecrane



Series: ab initio [2]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane





	untitled

It wasn't the first time they'd all gone out together after a long shift. They'd gone to breakfast more times than she could count, and every once in awhile – usually when there was something to celebrate – they went out for a quick drink before they all headed home to get a few hours' sleep.

Today they were celebrating Greg finally passing his field proficiency, and she wasn't sure whose idea it was to let him pick the club, but if she found out she was going to hurt them. Or at least refuse to go out with them again until they told her where they were going, because dark clubs with loud music and weird strobe lights weren't exactly her scene.

And really, this was the last thing she felt like doing after the shift they'd had, but she knew Greg would take it personally if she blew it off. Besides, Warrick was here, and okay, maybe she was hoping he'd finally say something about what happened between them. Because they hadn't really talked about it since it happened, and she knew three days wasn't that long, but she was starting to think maybe they really were going to pretend it never happened.

Not that she couldn't deal with that – she could – but if that was how it was going to be the least he could do was tell her, right? He was the one who'd taken her home, after all, and he was the one who brought up Grissom, of all people. He'd _cooked_ for her when they woke up together, for God's sake, driven her home and waited while she pulled on clean clothes and she was pretty sure that meant something.

She'd thought so at the time, anyway, but now they were here, in a club where they'd been called more than once while they were on the clock, and he looked a lot more comfortable here than she'd expected. Or maybe he just looked more comfortable than she wanted him to, because he fit into these places with practiced ease and she…didn't.

She gripped her soda a little harder, wishing suddenly for a beer and she knew that was a sign she needed to get out of here. Her gaze darted toward the door, only half-listening to the debate Nick and Warrick were currently engaged in over some sports thing that she'd never heard of and didn't care about. None of them had so much as looked at her since they got there, really, and she was contemplating how long it would take them to notice if she just left when Greg reached across the table and tapped the back of her hand.

"You look bored."

He had that look on his face like he was telling a secret, but he had to shout to be heard over the argument and the music, and Sara felt her cheeks flush when everybody at the table stopped talking to look at her. "I'm fine."

"Come on, I'll dance with you," he said, grinning in what she was pretty sure he thought was a charming way. Like he was doing her a favor. Like she needed rescuing, and okay, maybe she wasn't having a great time, but a pity dance at 7:30 in the morning wasn't exactly her idea of a step up.

She opened her mouth to tell him exactly why she wasn't interested in dancing or any other aerobic activity with him, but before she got the words out there was a hand on her arm, strong and solid and sending a shiver through her. She blushed even harder at that, hoping none of them noticed the affect Warrick's touch had on her. And it couldn't be anyone else, because she'd felt those hands on her skin and that was one thing she was never going to forget. 

He leaned in, mouth close to her ear and she couldn't see him, but she had a feeling he was smiling. "Dance with me."

"It's okay," she managed, praying her voice sounded more steady than it did, and now she was really wishing she'd had a drink. "Really."

"Come on," he said, and now she could hear the grin in his voice, "you're not gonna leave me hanging in front of Sanders, are you?"

His words surprised a laugh out of her, and she let go of her death grip on her glass and let him pull her off her seat, hand tight around hers as he led her to the dance floor. She wasn't dressed for this; she didn't even own clothes that looked anything like what the other girls on the dance floor were wearing, but when Warrick pulled her close and slid an arm around her waist she forgot to feel self-conscious. 

His arms felt good around her – solid and strong and familiar – and he smelled just the way she remembered when he kissed her that last time in his car. Every memory of that night came rushing back full force, details she'd played over in her head a million times and a few that she'd tried to forget. And she had no idea what any of it meant, but he was holding her like was thinking the exact same thing.

"Sorry about this."

"No, it's fine," she mumbled against his chest. When he didn't answer she looked up, smiling in spite herself at his bemused expression. "Wait, was this place your idea?"

He laughed and shook his head, eyes shining in the strobe lights and she felt her heart skip a beat. "No, this was Greg's idea. But I should have known it wouldn't really be your style."

And it was true, but she wasn't exactly sure what to think of the fact that he knew her that well. It was just another reminder of how different they were, of how things he could do without a second thought, things that would leave her with sweaty palms and a barely suppressed urge to turn and run. He had a whole world she'd never fit into, and this was just more proof that that one night should never have happened.

"Let me make it up to you. Tomorrow after shift," he said, breath hot against her cheek and when she looked up she knew exactly what he was asking. She knew she should say no, that she should be the one to put an end to this before it ruined whatever was left of their friendship, but before she could get the words out he was kissing her, one hand on her neck to tilt her head just so and long before he let her up for air she knew what her answer would be.


End file.
